


Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)

by AccioMjolnir



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Regret, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccioMjolnir/pseuds/AccioMjolnir
Summary: Ten years after the events of Trespasser, Evelyn Trevelyan runs into an old lover in Denerim. The years have given them time and perspective and they share bittersweet memories, unexpected honesty, and one last night together.
Relationships: Blackwall | Thom Rainier/Female Inquisitor, Blackwall | Thom Rainier/Female Trevelyan, Blackwall/Female Inquisitor
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26





	Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm the person that read Blackwall's epilogue card if you made him a Warden as "he ghosted you for his duty," and not "the feather was him telling you he heard his Calling" as some of my friends have argued. In any case, the way I read it prompted this.

The Gnawed Noble was full to bursting. The midsummer festival had taken over the Denerim Market Square the last few days, which attracted all manner of people. Evelyn shouldered her way to the bar, making sure not to clip anyone with the weapon held snug against her left side. 

“Nevarran Red, please,” she said, placing a coin on the bar. She tapped the fingers of her right hand against the smooth wood while she waited, and soon enough an ale was dropped in front of her, foaming head spilling down the side of the tankard. “Many thanks.”

“Evie?”

She’d know that voice anywhere. She turned to her left, and there he was. Thom Rainier, beardless and greying, smiling hopefully at her. For a moment she blinked at him, not sure she believed what she saw. Then she beamed at him. “Thom!”

“I saw you in the crowd and thought, ‘How often am I going to run into you by chance?’ I’m glad I followed. It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” she said, waiting as he ordered his own ale. When he had it, she gestured for him to follow and ducked back into the crowd, hoping that there would at least be room for them to stand together somewhere less heavily trafficked. She found a dark table under the stairs, only large enough for two, just as its occupants were vacating. They ducked in together.

“Maker, it’s good to see you,” he said, repeating himself. She smiled and took a sip of her ale. 

“Likewise,” she said. “What brings you to Denerim?”

“We’re hoping to convince the Queen to let the Grey Wardens establish a position here,” he said, taking a sip of his ale as well. “It’s been a decade since Corypheus. We’ve rebuilt. We’re trying to do good.”

She nodded, listening as he told her more of what the Wardens had been doing to redeem their tarnished reputation. She’d seen for herself just how stripped down the Ferelden and Orlesian Wardens had gotten. She glanced at his chest; there was a Warden-Constable’s badge there. 

“You actually earned that one, I take it?” she asked, winking at him, and he chuckled.

“I did.”

“You’ve done a lot in ten years,” she said. “I had wondered.”

“I’m sorry I stopped writing,” he said, softly. “I had no idea just how hard it would be to become a Warden, how busy I would be as a recruit. I know I said I would.”

She looked at him and then took a deep breath, her gaze flitting out to the crowd as she spoke. “I won’t say it didn’t hurt. You promised before we fought Corypheus that you’d always come back to me, and… well,” she looked back at him. “You know.”

This hung heavily between them for a moment as they sipped their drinks. He watched her take a deep breath and drop her eyes to her tankard. He scanned her face. She’d been through a lot since he’d last seen her, and ten years had added lines around her eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there before. 

“What about you? Why are you here?” he asked, and she laughed. 

“Cullen,” she said. “He lives just outside the city now. His wife just had another baby. Their third. He’s had half the Inquisition reunited under his roof for the last week.”

“He’s not your Commander anymore?”

“There’s no Inquisition, remember?” she said, smiling and shaking her head with a small laugh. “You  _ were _ at the Exalted Council, were you not?” 

He chuckled. “So I was.”

“You’ve forgotten,” she said, not a question, but a statement. 

“I have to admit I never paid that much attention to the politics,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I was there for you.”

She smiled lopsidedly, an expression so familiar to him that it warmed him. He thought that it had been, in hindsight, the last time they’d truly felt like a couple. Afterward he’d been called back to his Warden duties, and the distance between them had begun to grow and the letters had come fewer and farther between. Chasing after Solas had clearly kept her busy; taking on his part of the task of rehabilitating the Grey Wardens had done the same for him. They both watched each other in this moment, observing the other reminisce as they drank quietly, allowing the din of the crowded tavern to fill the space between them.

“I’m heading back to Skyhold in the morning,” she finally said.

“You’re still in Skyhold?”

“It’s home,” she said. “It was part of the deal when we disbanded the Inquisition. Two years to winnow down our forces, and once that was done, Skyhold and the land it’s on were officially declared mine. An “it was the least we could do” gesture for saving the world. I’m Bann of the mountain, I guess.”

“Is it just you then?”

“I’ve always got visitors,” she said, shrugging. 

“You’re not alone in that keep, are you?”

“No, no. Cole lives there, and Josephine and Cassandra. Some people never left. Cabot makes enough in the tavern not to want to leave. Harritt and Dagna stay because we keep giving them interesting things to do. The Chargers use it as a home base when they’re in this part of the world. Cullen visits often enough. Sera, too.”

He chuckled. “I miss Sera. She was fun.”

“She’s the same as ever,” she said, smiling. 

“Are you still after Solas?” he asked.

“Officially? No,” she said, and her mouth turned up a bit at the corner. He chuckled.

“So yes,” he said. She sighed heavily, grumbling a bit.

“That man is  _ impossible _ to catch,” she groaned. “When he took my arm at the Exalted Council he talked like his grand plan for the world was going to happen in a year or two, and now it’s ten years later and  _ nothing _ ,” she said. He laughed softly. She was just the same as he remembered, rambling when frustrated. 

“And Cullen isn’t in the thick of it?”

“He was,” she shifted in her seat. “The first few years, anyway, until he met Celia. When she got pregnant the first time, he passed his work to Rylen.”

“I remember him. Tattoos on the chin?” Thom asked, and she nodded. He noted that her face fell a little speaking about it, and frowned slightly. She turned and looked out into the crowd for a moment, averting her eyes from his gaze. There was a network of lines along her jaw and neck in front of her ear on that side. He leaned forward in his seat to take a better look.

“You’ve got a few new scars,” he observed, and she shrugged.

“Solas’s men. Most of these I got in the early years before I got used to being right-handed,” she explained. He leaned forward in his chair and touched her jaw. 

“This one looks like it was bad,” he said. She gave him a sad smile.

“I got that one killing the man that killed Rylen,” she said, her voice low. She took a sip of her ale. “He and I were together… after you stopped writing. For about a year.”

“Maker,” he replied. Her expression earlier made sense now. “I’m sorry.” 

“Thank you,” she said. Concentration turned her face for a moment, and then she added. “It’s been almost four years since he died.”

“Are you with anyone now?” he asked, and she just shook her head. 

“I sent the love of my life to the Wardens and then the next man I fell for after him died right in front of me. I gave up,” she said. He looked at her with surprise. 

“The love of your life?”

“Tragic, isn’t it.”

“I shouldn’t have stopped writing,” he frowned. She shrugged.

“Well, you did,” she looked out at the crowd again. He watched her, taking another sip of his ale. Then she turned back to him. He looked good in the blue and brown of official Warden armor. And the grey in his hair was attractive as well. She smiled softly and threw the question back at him.

“What about you? Charmed anyone else with that voice of yours?” 

“Nothing serious,” he said, chuckling. “Not since you.”

“It’s been a decade,” she said, and it was his turn to shrug. 

“No one’s compared,” he said. “You spoiled me.”

“Shouldn’t have stopped writing,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him as she took another sip of her ale. He laughed heartily this time. 

“You know, if things go well with the Queen I’ll have a posting here in Denerim,” he said. She looked at him a little warily. He hesitantly added, “We’d be in the same country again.”

“Where  _ have  _ you been all this time?” she asked after a moment, skirting whatever he had been hinting at, and he took a deep breath.

“Weisshaupt, to begin with,” he said. She nodded. After everything that had happened with Corypheus, the Wardens had retreated to the Anderfels. Empress Celene and Queen Anora both had banished them from Orlais and Ferelden respectively for their part in the chaos, and their leadership in the south had been nearly wiped out by the choices they made in the face of the false Calling. Evelyn herself had seen to it that they retained some of their honor, recruiting those that survived Adamant to help the Inquisition’s cause. But after Corypheus was defeated, the Wardens went on their way. Thom had eventually followed.

“After that?”

“Free Marches, mostly. I came here from Kirkwall,” he said. 

“Did you see Varric?” 

“I didn’t,” he said, chuckling. “I should have. Might have won some coin off him in a game or two of Wicked Grace.”

She laughed and took another sip, finishing off her tankard. He finished his own and then gestured toward hers, offering to get her another. She nodded, and he made his way through the crowd for more. Shouldering to the bar took effort, as did returning; he splashed some of the ale in the crowd as he got bumped. 

He finally sat back down across from her. The tankards were wet; he smiled apologetically as he slid hers toward her. She’d been smiling to herself, looking down at the table until he returned. She smiled warmly at him as he sat back down. He pushed her tankard toward her. “Something on your mind?”

“I was just thinking about Halamshiral,” she said, taking the ale. “Our dance on the balcony.”

“Ah,” he smiled, recalling it himself. “A good memory.”

“It is,” she said. “Do you ever wonder–” and then she stopped, rethinking and taking a sip of her ale. He looked at her curiously and decided not to let it go.

“Do I ever wonder?”

“If I hadn’t sent you to the Wardens,” she said, putting her tankard back down on the table. She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “If I’d pardoned you instead.”

“You couldn’t have done that,” he said, shaking his head. “To do what I’d done and get away with no punishment at all? Pardoning me couldn’t possibly have been on the table.”

“It was,” she admitted, her mouth turning into the slightest frown. His expression was incredulous.

“That would have been an incredible abuse of your power.”

“I abused my power just getting you out of Val Royeaux,” she said. “In the end it didn’t matter.”

“It mattered to me,” he said. He looked her in the eye, leaning toward her over the table. “You showed me I could do more to pay for my sins than die. I’d been hiding until then, cowering behind another man’s name. You set me on a path of real atonement, Evie. You changed my life.”

“I lost you for it,” she said, sadly. She shook her head. He reached out and cupped her hand where she held her tankard. It was unexpected, and her face shifted with surprise. She let go of her tankard and took his hand. Warm, strong fingers held hers, just for a moment, until she let go again. She deflected the old feelings roiling within her and cracked a smile. “I only have one hand, Thom. It’s you or the ale.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. “Still joking to push away your feelings, I see.”

“A tried and true tactic,” she replied. For a moment they sat in silence, unsure of what to talk about now after they’d pushed up all those old feelings. Each drank from their tankard, thinking. She watched the crowd while he watched her. Finally, she turned back to him.

“Where are you staying?” 

“We’ve got a camp outside the city,” he said, gesturing east. “It’s a walk, but I’ll manage.”

She looked at him thoughtfully as she took another sip of her ale, and then she put her tankard down and flipped open a pocket on the front of her vest. She pulled a key out and slid it across the table. “Upstairs. Two flights up, second door on the left.” 

He raised an eyebrow at her, planting his hand on his knee in hesitation.

“I have something I need to take care of tonight. It shouldn’t take more than an hour, but it has to be done,” she said. “Be there when I return?”

He smiled then, a little disbelieving. Then, he took the key. She raised her tankard and emptied it. 

“I’ll see you in an hour?” she asked, standing. He stood with her. The space they were getting up from was tight enough that they wound up very close together as they rose. He looked down at her with a fond, familiar look on his face, and she pressed a hand to his chest. “I’ll be back,” she said, softly. 

“I’ll be here.”

***

She returned, as she’d promised, roughly an hour later. He had settled in an armchair in the room, turning it to face out the small window that looked out into the night. The weather was such that dark clouds blotted out much of the sky, but small, starry gaps were visible now and then. Watching the wind push the clouds across the view passed the time. He’d lit a few candles, and the room was lit dimly. The door opening startled him; he’d nearly dozed off. When she finally came into the room he turned with a smile on his face that immediately shifted into a frown when he saw her spattered with blood.

“Maker’s balls, Evie,” he said, and she laughed. 

“Just like old times,” she said, shooting him a crooked smile. “Give me just a moment.”

She disappeared, leaving the room again, and then after a few minutes she returned with a pitcher full of hot water and a member of the Inn’s staff carrying a small wash basin and a cloth. He placed it all on the table for her and she dumped the water in, sticking her finger in it to test its temperature. 

“Thank you,” she told the staff member, and he nodded before excusing himself. She locked the door behind him and then sighed. Thom looked at her curiously.

“Are you going to tell me why you look like that, or am I to make a guess?”

“Antivan  _ bloody _ Crows,” she said in response. He frowned.

“There’s a contract on you?”

“There’s been a contract on me for ten years. Someone with coin wasn’t fond of what I did as Inquisitor, and I’ve been swatting Crows away a few times a year ever since.”

“Is that what you had to take care of?” he asked, and she nodded, unbuckling the belts that held her weapon to her side. She pressed her short arm against it to hold it up as she dropped the belts and then grabbed it with her hand so it wouldn’t fall.

“Every time I come to Denerim, they’re here waiting,” she said. “For all their bluster, the Crows are pretty inept. I have to think they’re coasting on reputation at this point. Or someone in the organization likes me. I get advance warning  _ every _ time.”

He laughed. She put her weapon on the table beside the basin. It was an interesting contraption, Thom thought. It looked as though she could simply put her arm into it from the holster on her side and strap it to herself. It also looked heavy. 

“What is that?” he asked, as she moved to unbuckle her vest. She looked up at him curiously, and he nodded toward the weapon. 

“Oh, that,” she smiled. “Dagna and Harritt made it for me. I can bludgeon with it, if I get caught in a melee, and if I’ve got distance, it has a half-size crossbow mechanism on top,” she touched it to show him where. “It straps on my side, here, so I can just put my arm in here,” she gestured to her body, and then the stump of her arm, just below the elbow where Solas had stopped the Anchor from killing her. “And then I use my hand to arm it.”

“Impressive,” he muttered. Then she grinned at him.

“Dagna set fire runes on it. Three of them. I can light people up almost as well as Dorian can, if I want to.”

“Terrifying,” he laughed, coming over to see. She pointed to the runes and he leaned in to look. He’d taken off and set aside his armor while she’d been out, and stood in simple brown leather pants and a plain white shirt. She smiled at him, and then she shouldered out of her vest. He recalled how frustrated she’d been when Solas had first taken her arm; she’d been left-handed, and losing her dominant hand had set her back a ways in nearly everything. Now she looked as though she’d always been right-handed. “Ten years makes quite a difference,” he said, watching her. 

“Are you saying I’ve aged?” she teased, picking up a cloth and soaking it in the basin. As she washed away the blood from her skin, he smiled at her and kept up the conversation. 

“I can’t exactly throw stones,” he said, gesturing to himself. “I’m an old man.”

“Grey suits you,” she said. 

“I meant your dexterity,” he said, smiling more broadly at her compliment. She shrugged. 

“Some things are still difficult,” she said, gesturing at her shirt. She’d always been fond of clothing with elaborate clasps and buttons. He had many memories of slowly opening her clothes one hook at a time to get to her skin beneath. Her shirt now was a simple pullover, a loose collar laced with leather ties she hadn’t bothered to knot. 

She wrung out the bloodied cloth and put it down, wiping her hands dry on the front of her shirt. He stepped closer to her, taking one end of the leather string in his fingers and looking at her face. Her eyes met his and she watched him as he scanned her, taking in all the small changes that a decade had made in her. Her hand drifted to his arm, her fingers gently sliding up his bicep to his shoulder. 

He dipped his head down, capturing her mouth in a kiss. She leaned into him and he slid an arm around her, pulling her close. A small, wanting sound escaped her, and he deepened the kiss with his tongue. She met him with hers, and then it was his turn to moan, a low rumble in his throat. 

She broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at him. “ _ Maker _ ,” she whispered, and he chuckled, the corner of his mouth turning up in a slight smile. 

“Let me help you with that,” he said, tugging on the hem of her shirt. She let him lift it over her head. He dropped it to the floor, and then his hands were on her skin. She gasped as his thumb brushed over her nipple, and then he dropped his mouth to her shoulder and kissed her there. It was something she’d always loved when they were together, and the movement now felt natural, familiar. Like coming home.

“You shouldn’t have stopped writing,” she whispered, running her hand down his side and pulling at his shirt. He reached down and pulled it over his head, dropping it to the floor with hers. His hands then went to her pants, dragging them down her hips, taking her smalls with them.

“One of my many regrets,” he muttered, kissing her and guiding her backward toward the bed. Her hand trailed gently down his chest, fingers playing softly against the hair there, following it to his waist. She tugged downward and he stopped to help, removing the remainder of his clothing and leaving it on the floor with everything else. He moved back toward her, scanning her body with his eyes as he closed the space between them. “I never thought I’d be here again,” he murmured as he brought his hand back to her breast.

“Me either,” she admitted, and she took his other hand with hers and stepped backwards. She pulled him to the bed with her. He moved over her, propping himself up with one arm, and kissed her deeply, making her hum happily in her throat. Her legs opened around him, her knees drawing up against his sides as he leaned over her. Her tongue was in his mouth and her hand was in his hair. It all sent arousal rippling through him. His erection brushed against her thigh. Sliding his hand along her body, he slipped his fingers between them, fingering her wetness and making her moan. 

He breathed her name against her mouth and she chased after him, nibbling at his lower lip. Fingers slipped into her. She braced herself against the bed with her shortened left arm, arching her body into his as pleasure rolled through her. A needy whine emanated from her throat and he chuckled, breaking their kiss to look fondly at her. She bit her lip and smiled at him, desire clearly written across her face. He withdrew his fingers from her and shifted.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he entered her and she breathed out a happy sigh. He’d missed this; the feel of her enveloping him fully with her wet heat, the warmth of her body beneath his. Her hand slid up his arm as he propped himself up over her. As he established a rhythm, she at first kept her eyes closed, biting her lip and responding to his thrusts with small sounds of pleasure. He watched her face, enjoying the way her mouth hung slightly open, and then he dipped down to kiss her. She smiled against his mouth. He moved one hand to her breast, pinching her nipple gently between his fingers. Another moan escaped her. 

Shifting beneath him, she propped herself up with her left arm, sliding her hand around his neck. The small adjustment to their position changed the sensation of his thrusts for both of them. He groaned, picking up the pace. She shifted her legs up, changing the angle slightly again, and then she gasped.

“Right there, Thom,” she breathed. “Right there.”

He changed nothing except his pace, speeding up and luxuriating in the sound of her ecstasy. His own pleasure was building, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to wait until she reached her climax. He could hear how close he was. It was as though no time had passed at all. Their patterns were like old memories; they’d done this so many times that he still recognized all of her cues. She knew just where to touch him; he knew just how to tease her. He dropped his mouth to her shoulder, biting gently above her collarbone. She was panting against him now. He was barely hanging on, and then she shuddered against him. She clenched around him, her small, pleasured sounds becoming louder, and then her fingers dug into his shoulder. She came with a long, delicious moan. He let himself go and followed her over the edge. 

He remained within her and they kissed, long, languid kisses. Finally, he withdrew and started to roll to her right, as he’d always done, but she nudged him the other way.

“Right handed now,” she muttered, and he chuckled.

“Of course,” he said, settling beside her. She curled against him, sliding her hand across his chest and nuzzling into him. He rumbled warmly beside her and she hummed happily.

“Mmm,” she shifted, adjusting herself slightly against him. “I missed that sound.”

“I missed  _ you _ ,” he said. He moved his hand to her head, holding her close. He played with her hair; she kept it short now, and wore it free of pins and ties. “You look different with short hair.”

“I can’t make braids and buns with one hand,” she murmured against him. She moved her head and looked up at him. “You shaved.”

“The beard went grey first,” he explained. She laughed softly. 

“I bet that looks nice,” she said. She shut her eyes. “I’d like to see it.”

“Of course,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll just grow it for you, give me a minute.”

She nudged him teasingly in response, and then she yawned. One of the candles had guttered out while they were having sex, and the others were burning low. The room had dimmed. He shifted slightly and pulled at the bedding; she lifted her hips and moved her legs so that he could draw it from underneath them. He covered them. Then he kissed the top of her head, eliciting a sleepy, approving hum from her. She tipped her face up and he kissed her slowly and sweetly. She settled against him and he closed his eyes. 

When he woke, she had gone. He frowned and sat up in the bed and as he did so, he heard the rustle of a piece of paper against the bedding. He picked it up. Her right-handed script was neat, but utilitarian; he recalled that her original left-handed handwriting had been beautiful. He wondered idly if it frustrated her as he unfolded the note. As he read, he laughed, smiled sadly, and then finally, dropped his hand and the letter into his lap with a sigh. 

_ Thom, _

~~_ It’s a long trip to Skyhold, and I wanted to get out before the festival crowd made  _ ~~

~~_ You looked tired, I didn’t want to wake you _ ~~

_ The thought of saying goodbye didn’t appeal to me. To be quite honest, I don’t know that I could have done it. I might have followed you to your Warden camp. Think I’d survive the Joining? Just kidding. _

_ I told you yesterday that I always have visitors at Skyhold. It pains me, but I have to ask that you not be among them. Like I said, you  _ ~~_ were _ ~~ _ are the love of my life. I only want to say goodbye to you once. _

_ When you hear your Calling, don’t you dare go down those Deep Roads without letting me know. _

_ Yours, _

_ Evie _

**Author's Note:**

> I'm considering writing a follow-up for this one where he hears the Calling. Maybe. We'll see.


End file.
